Every year, around mid to early March, a colourful multitude of exotic bands and artists from all over the world converges on the sleepy town of Adelaide for WOMADelaide, and thankfully a lot of these bands and artists make other stops while they’re in Australia.
Vieux Farka Touré is one such example. The Malian singer-songwriter and virtuoso guitarist — just like his dad, the Grammy-winning Ali Farka Touré — is playing an intimate gig at the Corner Hotel in Richmond tonight.
It’s a novelty seeing the Corner set up like a jazz bar. The lightning is brighter than normal, yet still subdued, while the floor of the venue is lined with chairs and small tables. The crowd is a mix of over-forties and younger people.
Vieux and his band’s instruments sit quietly on the empty stage; as well as the standard fare of two electric guitars, a bass, and drum kit, there are several exotic apparatus, including a wooden triangular spiral, a netted mass of seashells, and a dome-shaped drum on a table. Intriguing.
After some less-than-inspiring interstitial music that you might expect to hear in a UN headquarters elevator, the band take to the stage.
Clad plainly in slacks and a shirt, Farka Touré makes nonetheless an imposing frontman as he picks up a guitar and begins to play.
It’s captivating from the start. Farka Touré’s eyes are closed and his fingers dance lightly across his guitar strings. He’s an exemplar of the technique known as African fingerstyle.
It’s simply amazing to watch: he plays with the sort of grace you might expect from a harp player, his fingers at times barely grazing the strings.
We all sit transfixed, either on the floor or at chairs and tables. There’s one guy in shorts and sneakers who’s dancing in a bizarre, halting fashion under the left speaker stack.
He later moves close to the front of stage and puts his head against one of the foldback speakers, listening and giving a thumbs up to Farka Touré. Then he stands there for a while, calling out unintelligible heckles now and then. It’s pretty odd, but the guitarist isn’t fazed in the slightest, and eventually the guy goes away (probably back to the bar).
After a couple of songs, Farka Touré asks the audience in his limited yet charming English to stand up and dance. Some of the older couples towards the back are probably grumbling a little, but once the band launch into the next song, a considerably more upbeat number, everyone’s grooving and shaking.
After another dancing number, the performer lets us know we can all sit down again. He’s got a gentle, humorous way of speaking. It’s so minimal it could hardly be called banter.
At one point, he reveals that one of the guitars he’s playing on tonight is actually borrowed from a member of the audience, and points him out and thanks him. It’s a touching display and adds even more intimacy to an already cozy performance.
It’s only towards the end that the strange half-spherical drum-table gets a workout. The drummer stands behind the table, hitting the drum with the bottoms of his fists while clutching thin, chopstick-like batons between his fingers, with which he raps against the dome on alternating offbeats.
The effect is similar to a soft double-kick bass drum offset with rimshots, all with a distinctly African flavour. It’s a beautiful combination of sounds, and watching him perform is thoroughly entrancing.
But he can’t steal the show from his band leader. The magic Malian is humble and appreciative as he thanks the audience and promises that he’ll be back in Australia soon.
We hope so, Vieux. We hope so.
